I hear their calling on the wind
far reaching voices haunt my soul,
they beckon me to ancient lands
where verdant valleys gently roll.
Where mountains reach out to the sky
austere and grand, their soaring rock
give shelter to the Scots pines who
in turn safeguard the glassy loch.
And in my heart I feel the warmth
as golden shafts pierce leaden skies,
to floodlight radiance on the crags
emotion spills from haunted eyes.
On ringing sighs the skirl of pipes
awakes the tugging in my breast,
to draw me to my highland roots
before they lay me down to rest.
For never will I lie at peace
with foreign soil about my head,
without the eagle flying free
without the heather for my bed,
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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you are one of the most amazing people i know and that show mainly from the times i have talked with you and reading your poems, like this one, keep it flowing
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No doubt about it this poem is a perfect example of the gift you have for rhyme and meter. This poem should only be read out loud and when it is the depth of the message is amplified.
Love,
Amera♥
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Excellent imagery within this well-written composition--
Flawless flow of the unforced rhyming verse.
Very Well Penned!
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